Sweeter Than Love
by EverythingAtOnce
Summary: He was getting old. Everyone had already passed on, leaving him behind. All people really know him for is the fact that he visits the grave everyday...


**Okay...you guys are all going to HATE me for this, and it's going to be AWESOME! Haha, yeah! - no, okay, um, so, this story...**

**It's a special story.**

**And, I'll explain why: So, when I first came up with this idea (like last year), I was just like, "Heck yeah, this will be _amazing!_" Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was something like that! And, so, when I get an idea, which I had right then, I have the hardest time deciding which POV to choose. Either 1st or 3rd because let's be honest, 2nd POV is just plain weird. And so, as I'm deciding, it finally hits me that 2nd POV wouldn't be too shabby for this story idea in particular...in fact, it would fit _perfectly_.**

**Okay-straight to the point: this story is in 2nd POV.**

**Yeah, and in case for those who don't know what 2nd POV is, it's got all that "you, you're, yours" crap going on. ;D**

**So, yes. This may be strange for some of you, and yes, you may hate me for doing it in this POV - but another reason why I chose this POV is because I wanted to challenge myself. And just because I'm doing 2nd POV for this story doesn't mean I'll ever consider doing it again (unless you guys actually really like it then maybe...), but other than that, this story is just something for Valentine's Day, and it's just something for me to have a new experience with.**

**Discalimer: I don't own Alvin and the Chipmunks.**

**Read on... ;D**

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><p><strong>*<em><span>And to all of those who normally may skip the authors note because it's obnoxious or too freaking long for you to read (and I know some of you actually do this which is fine), you may want to read this just so you know what to expect.<span>_ Capisce?***

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><p>There's something about the air. It's lighter, and has cast everyone under a spell. Everyone except <em>you<em>. Maybe it's all of the hands you've noticed that's got you intimidated; all of the hands that cling to one another like a lock. You take one hand, and place it in another creating a connection. The only thing about this whole entire linking of the hands is: You're not a part of any of it. Your hand stays free flowing in the empty, bitter chill of the air.

But then, maybe it's not simply _just _all of the hands you've noticed—maybe it's all of the couples you've started to notice that you never once noticed before. You see one girl and _BAM!_—the next thing you know she's got her arms wrapped around some random guy you always thought would never find a date that would actually want to be with him. You see your best friends and _POOF!_—they no longer have time for you because they have that certain "someone special" now in their lives.

Suddenly now you've started noticing things you never once saw before. It's taken this long for you to notice, and you wished things could've stayed that way…

It's intimidating and not to mention _embarrassing _that you have no one to hold, or fit their hand in yours like a perfect puzzle. You still don't have any real understanding of it all quite yet. Your mind hasn't grown to accept this "thing" that's got everyone on a rampage. _Love. _You keep asking why everyone's got their minds jumping off of a cliff just to get a small taste of it. A small piece of it.

You're so confused. This so called "love" has torn your family apart. You've got siblings and relatives that have a love for drugs. You've got friends that have a love for lust. You know people who have a love for blood and pain…

Why was love something that everyone so desperately wanted? You didn't understand that.

You never noticed it so much before, but now all you can see is: LOVE.

_Love._

The simple four letter word either stood for:

Losing Over Value Emptiness

Or…

Lusting Owning Valliant Eternity

Of course, there are a thousand other options that you could replace each word with, whether positive or negative…but, if you had to choose between 1 and 2, you most definitely wouldn't go with the latter.

Why was it now that you were starting to see more of this "love" going around? It used to never bother you so much… Maybe it wasn't all of the hand-holding-I-love-you stuff going on. Maybe it was the simple fact that the upcoming holiday had everything to do with hearts and…ugh…_love. _

Yup. That was definitely the reason. Without a doubt. Valentine's Day was coming up…and according to your radar, it was getting dangerously close.

You sighed as you sat on a high, mint green stool, leaning your back against the cream pink caked walls. Your mom owns a flower shop and every day, you have to pretty much spend a good quarter of your life merely sitting, doing absolutely _nothing. _It's already bad enough that you have to waste another quarter of your life at _school_… Basically, to put things simpler, you've been wasting half of your life at school and your mom's flower shop practically since the day you've discovered the use of your legs and the magical thing they can do of walking.

Since your school is a good distance from where you live, and you don't have anyone to carpool with, the only ride you have is from your mom. And since she has to work in her flower shop every single hour before the night took over the sky, she can only squeeze in enough time to pick you up from your school. There's no time for her to take you home, and you don't really want to walk home…

So, the only choice and option you have is to simply stay, and bore yourself to death. Oh, and to top things off, your back is sore due to all of the time you've spent, leaning it against the walls. You swear now that you'll get back problems in the future… You can feel a hunch back coming on or something…

Heaving out your breath, you take a good look around your mom's flower shop. A bunch of red and pink hearts floated like clouds on the clear windows at the front of the store to the outside world. The outside world you saw from the windows was your only entertainment—it was like a TV to you…except less enjoyable. But sadly enough, you've adapted to it. You've somehow found interest in watching all of the passing cars and passing people that cross your sight; all you've been doing to keep your brain functioning before frying to death was simply judge. You've been having your own inside voice, judge inside your mind, scoring each person and each car that passed on by.

As your mind is wandering aimlessly, the sweet aroma of a thousand roses filling your nose, you suddenly see him. You suddenly see the old man you always see pass by your mom's flower shop. He occasionally came in every now and then, and today you could sense him heading for the front door, even though it looked like he wasn't.

He was a strange old man. He was always…smiling… He always looked so happy…too, happy, in fact. He always had the kind of smile on his face that made him glow. He always looked as if—and as silly as this sounded—he always looked as if he was walking on sunshine…even on the rainy, gloomy, cold, harsh days…he was always smiling. It almost got on your nerves how he was happy when the world was crying…

The attire he wore always had the color green. Whether he was wearing a sweater vest, a long coat, a flat cap hat, a scarf—just anything—he always had the color green somewhere. His clothing was old-fashioned; it almost seemed as if he was living in his past, but you knew that was impossible….right?

Suddenly the old, plump man approached the front door, and your mother rushed from arranging a delicate bouquet of red roses, to the front of the store just to open the door. In this old man's hand, he holds a white plastic store bag. Every day when you see him he's always holding some plastic store bag. You've never been able to quite see what he bought everyday yet… Maybe today would be your lucky day.

"How are you, Mr. Seville?" your mom speaks gently to the old man.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking." The old man smiles. He moves the plastic bags in his right hand to his left. "Do you have my orders ready? I'd like to see them…if you don't mind, that is…"

You watch inventively as your mom smiles and nods her head before rushing to the back of the store, grabbing a small set of six pots on a firm tray, each pot having a specified color of flower. After your mom brings the tray over, and sets it atop the front counter, she quickly rushes away disappearing inside the back room. During the time she's gone, you exchange awkward smiles with the old man. The gentle creases that fan out of the old man's deep green eyes as he grins softens your thoughts of him, and the next thing you know, your mom comes bursting out of the back room with a grand pot of white delicate roses, small green flowers filling in the empty gaps in between each flower.

When your mom slowly sets down the pot, you stare as the old man examines each and every pot carefully in awe. You notice he takes more admiration in the bigger pot, touching it softly, treating it as if it would shatter like glass at his touch.

When he's finally done evaluating, he smiles to your mother and takes her hand in his soft fragile hands. "Thank you. These are perfect," he gleams brightly, emphasizing his last word. "I'll come by tomorrow to pick these up." As he smiles, he waves goodbye, and your mother holds the front door open as he leaves.

Hearing that he was planning on coming over tomorrow, you instantly know that the orders he had made were for Valentine's Day. You also are refreshed with the dreadful thought that Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Darn… You're mad because it took you _forever_ to forget about the nerve-racking holiday…

"Isn't he just so sweet?" Your mother asks you as she holds her hands up to her chest. "He is just the sweetest old man I have ever met," she gushes as she stares out the windows causing you to roll your eyes.

You jump off of the stool you were sitting on and ask curiously as you begin to examine the seven pots of flowers, "How come he's always carrying a plastic store bag?" You stared at each pot. Two were a rainbow of bright multi-colored flowers, one had red flowers, the next had pink flowers, the next had blue flowers, and the last had violet flowers. And of course, the biggest had white, adorned with green, flowers. Your face scrunched slightly in confusion. Why were there so many different colors? From the past, you saw customers usually buy sets that all had the same color…

You grit your teeth as the quick thought of _oh look at you, aren't you just the observant, smart__ one _rush passes your mind. You really need to get a real life other than inside the flower shop…

Your mom purses her lips as she consumes your question in. Shrugging, she responds, "I don't know…why don't you ask him? I hear he goes to visit the grave every single day…wonder who he's visiting…a lost lover…?" You hear her voice softly mumble. "Maybe you can ask him tomorrow…" Your mom turns around to face you.

Nodding your head slowly, you suddenly ask while poking the pure, silky white flowers in the giant pot, "What's his name?" You've seen the man every day, yet you had no clue as to what his name was. How sad was that?

"Umm, Theodore Seville," your mom answers as she walks over and slaps your hands. "_These are not for touching_." She states firmly as she begins to take the tray holding the six pots back, followed right after the grand pot of delicate soft white roses.

Blinking your eyes, you stare back out the clear windows. So _that's_ what his name was…

Theodore Seville.

**X - O - X**

It was finally Valentine's Day, and you were dreading for the hours to come. Why you hated this holiday so much was because it always whacked you in the face with a metal bat reminding you of the fact that you would be _alone. _This holiday always was lurking in your shadows to remind you of how "forever alone" you'd be for the rest of your life.

Sighing as you found yourself, once again, sitting on the mint green stool, you watched out the glass windows anticipating the time when the old man, Theodore Seville, would be coming in. You were curious about him now. Form the information you had just heard the other day form your mom, you've been struck with curiosity and awe. You've thought about your mom's words about this so-called Theodore Seville all night last night, and now, you were really interested in him. Granted you had better things to do, you really wanted to actually try and get to know this old man a little more…

Constantly, you glanced from looking out the windows, to staring at the floral clock hanging on the wall just above where you sat. You soon began to swing your feet, scraping the soles of your shoes against the white pearly floors. When was the old man coming in? (You felt more comfortable calling the old man, "old man," as opposed to his real name, Theodore Seville, for some odd reason.)

Suddenly, when your mom emerged from the back room, the two swinging doors swaying back and forth against the free air, you abruptly ask, "When is this old man coming?" Your voice sounds more like a whine, then a real genuine question.

"Mr. Seville?" You nod your head with wide exasperated eyes. "Oh, well, he already came this morning."

Hearing this, you feel a sudden rush of hot blood run through your veins. "WHAT?" you exclaim, jumping off of your seat. Your mom had to be joking. You couldn't believe it. You seriously wasted your time waiting for someone that wasn't even _coming_.

"Well, yeah—I'm sorry…I didn't know you were waiting for him…" Your mom apologetically speaks. "If I knew, I would've told you," she frowns in disappointment.

You exhale out as calmly as you can. "It's fine…" You begin to walk towards the front doors. "I'm just…I'm just going to go out for a walk," you mumble as you leave your mom's flower shop.

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><p>As you're walking, aimlessly letting your feet guide you down the sidewalk, you let out a soft sigh through your nose. Your gaze is glued to the ground, keen on watching your feet step in the rhythmic pattern you've been hypnotized by.<p>

Heaving out a breath of air, you finally pick your gaze up from off the ground, and you find yourself passing by the local cemetery. As you scan the cemetery, to your luck, you find the person of interest sitting down on the long, swaying green grass in the middle of the graveyard. The setting sun is currently peeking out from behind the light clouds, and there are still traces of blue sky illuminating the world encouraging you to walk over to the old man.

You halt in your steps as you continue to stare. You can't quite decide whether or not you really actually want to approach this old man….

Shaking your head, you're suddenly heading on your way towards the old man. You were really curious…there was something about this old man that had you…inspired, or something. You weren't quite sure why you felt the urge to join the old man in his company, and you weren't sure what answers you'd discover…but you knew that going over to join this old man in his loneliness would satisfy your curiosity.

When you approached Theodore Seville, you noticed the same pots of delicate flowers from his order the other day all out on separate flat, glossy granite gravestones that were aligned next to each other. At the very end of the vertical line these flat gravestones made, Theodore Seville sat next to the last one on the right that had the grand pot of white roses set to the far corner of the gravestone.

Slowly, you approach with much caution. As you near the frail old man, you notice him with a box of chocolates, every now and then popping a chocolate in his mouth. You hear him murmuring softly as if he were having an actual conversation. You also suddenly realize the bright pink, heart-shaped balloon strung to the pot of white flowers, wavering in the soft breeze.

You swallow, unsure whether or not you coming into the cemetery was such a great idea…but when Theodore looks up to you, he smiles. Well, there was no going back now. Whether or not this man was actually some lunatic, you were yet to discover within a few seconds…

"Look, Ellie, we have a visitor," you hear him murmur softly in delight.

As Theodore stands, you edge in your step, feeling oddly out of place. Yeah, now you were cursing your curiosity for dragging you out here in this cemetery.

"Hello, there," Theodore greets as he comes to stand next to you.

You awkwardly wave, slowly dropping your gaze to the grave you currently stood next to. You read the name suddenly realizing something.

_Simon Seville_

Running the engraved name in your mind, you look to Theodore, then back at the grave and soon began to scan each of the graves next door to this one.

"So, you've finally figured out that I come here every day, haven't you?" Your bone muscles tighten timidly at this. "You may think I'm some crazy old man for coming to this cemetery every single day…but this is where I feel the most love…" Theodore suddenly speaks, beginning to rub his old hands together, a small smile lifting his lips. "This is my family…" He walks around you as he stares at the very first gravestone.

You suddenly find yourself following him—_what were you doing?_—and you look to the glossy gravestone he was staring at. As you read the engraved words on the gravestone, you soon find yourself moving down the line.

_Beatrice Miller_

_ David Seville_

_ Alvin Seville_

_ Brittany Seville_

_ Simon Seville_

_ Jeanette Seville_

You stopped when you came to the last name, where Theodore sat at earlier.

_Eleanor Seville_

Turning, you looked to where he still stood, staring at you with soft green eyes.

"This is my family." He slowly walked down to where you stood, and took a seat back down next to the grave you found him sitting by originally, caressing one of the white roses. "And this is my love…"

You remain silent as you watch this old man, Theodore Seville tenderly speak his full heart out. "I feel her love everyday…she's watching over me…I know it. And I know she waits for me…and I know she's not lonely because she's with the rest of our family…" He sighs gently, his words soft, yet strong. "I know I don't have any need to come here every day…and I know what people think…but she's my love. I promised myself I'd spend every day with her until we could be reunited in person once more." He glances up at you. "Love is a sacred thing. And it's the best thing that's ever happened to me…" He drops his gaze down to his empty hands, and you notice a soft smile arise on his face. "We'll be together once again…but until then, this is the closest thing for me to be with my family, and surround myself with the ones I love… This is where I feel most at home, and not so alone…"

You didn't ask for this old man to start telling you his whole life story…but strangely enough, you're not complaining. You're not annoyed, and you're listening to each of his words…genuinely…

Suddenly Theodore looks up to you. "I'm sorry—I know you didn't ask…but I felt like I should tell you…" He sighs softly as he goes back to staring at the grave in front of him.

"So…are these your siblings or something…?" You suddenly, _amazingly_, find your voice talking. What were you doing?

Theodore looks to you and smiles, as he slowly pushes his fragile body off the ground. He tugs at his green knit sweater and timidly walks past you and points as he speaks, "Only Simon and Alvin are my siblings. Dave is our father. Ms. Miller was our neighbor, and her adoptive daughters: Brittany, Jeanette…"He turns to the last grave. "And my sweet love…Eleanor." His smile widens as he speaks her name. You can sense something more. Something stronger than love…

"You see, Alvin finally asked Brittany's hand in marriage when he finally sucked up his pride…" He chuckles softly. "I always knew he loved her…" You hear him murmur, as he stares at Alvin's grave. "And Simon wasn't really a shy person…but towards Jeanette, he would melt…"

As the old man continues to tell you his past life, and explains to you each of who the members of his family is, the next thing you know, you're sitting next to him as he speaks of Eleanor. You cannot _believe _that you're actually genuinely interested. This sort of stuff, as much as you like it in the media, you aren't as fascinated with it in the real world. But, then again, the media _is_ based off of the real world except with a few twists in it…so what made reality so much worse than the fantasies written in the falsity displayed in what you watched and listened to?

The sun soon begins to leave the sky, leaving the world in the lurking shadows of the moon. The last shades of orange and purple fade throughout the sky like smeared water paint. The soft sweet smells of the flowers linger in the air, swirling in the gentle wind around you leaving a bittersweet sense of loneliness in the arms of the breeze.

You don't know when you realize it, but you're now alone. Theodore had left some time ago due to the fact that he had a curfew…and this confused you because he told you that he lived alone…but then again, he also told you that normally two of his nephews—they were twins or something—and they usually came and visited him. You're not sure whether or not he has any other nieces or nephews, or sons or daughters…but from what it felt like, there wasn't much of his family left—or at least around. It was clear to you that his family was practically all here, where you were sitting.

You couldn't quite wrap your mind around the words that Theodore had told you. There was something sacred about them that even _love _couldn't quite define…

Love. You snickered at this word. What made love so _special?_

You glanced to the grave in front of you.

_Eleanor Seville_

_My sweet love._

_My sunshine._

_She will forever remain_

_in my heart; a place where love_

_will never be able to define her._

—_Theodore Seville_

_Again_, with the LOVE. Except, this time, love wasn't something that actually overruled, for once. There was something greater than love.

As you take a stand, lingering in the lonely, yet so full air, you finally leave behind the seven graves.

Despite all that you have consumed, you still didn't respect love the way you saw everyone treat it. No. Nothing changed about your perspectives of love. You still didn't understand what made love so _wonderful_, but you knew why everyone wanted it. And now you knew why you would eventually have to want it too.

There were different levels of love and what it had to give. There was: hate, enmity, fair, fine, like, love, and something much more…

You wanted what Theodore Seville had. And what he had, it was sweeter than love.

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><p><strong>To all of you brave souls that actually took the time to read this, can I just say: YOU'RE AWESOME! I know it can be hard to read something that you totally aren't used to, or don't like, but thank you so much for reading this.<strong>

**The whole "You" character for this story is pretty general. I didn't make any specific things about it because I didn't want to make this story specifically for girls, or for guys; I didn't want any of you to feel awkward or whatever. SO, you can decide whether "You" is a girl or boy. :D**

**OH, and for the "what's in the plastic bag" thing, assume that it's got chocolates or gifts/treats in it.**

**Did any of you catch my hugs and kisses? (XOX) Yeah? XD Okay, yeah, I know I'm stupid, but it's kind of clever...right? ;D**

**So, boys, review for me, yes? *WinkWink*KissKis - yeah, no, I'm kidding.**

**Although, I really would appreciate feedback for this story from all of you who have read it. I would really appreciate hearing all of your opinions and feelings of this story. Like, tell me did you like it even thought it's in 2nd POV? Was it too cheesy? Was it overall plain dumb? How did I do with 2nd POV? Should I ever write 2nd POV ever again or is it like "Yeah, no, once is good enough"? Etc... Etc...**

**Again, thanks so much for reading!**

**HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE!**


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